Focking excellent

Guess what? I went to the cinema again last night but for variation, I went with Steve and not to the UGC!

Unable to wait any longer, we went to see a charidee screening of Meet The Fockers. And it was excellent. The joke had moved on slightly from Meet The Parents in that we were less waiting for things to get worse but enjoying Bob de Niro get his head round the hippy lifestyle of Mr and Mrs Focker Snr.



Dustin Hoffman and Barbara Streisand were so good as Gaylord Focker's hugging, touchy-feely parents. Steve thinks Hoffman should be nominated for an Oscar for his performance!

The evening's entertainment was preceeded by the warm-up act of a Chinese restaurant where I am ashamed to say I got the giggles over misunderstandings about food due to a lack of language skills and the fact one of its star dishes was 'crunchy jellyfish and trotters'.

I think I have found the answer to one of the many questions our night out in Newcastle prompted. Here is the lovely Miss Jill Halfpenny on why Geordies don't wear coats: 'The density of bars in Newcastle is so great. Imagine this: I'm going out on a Friday and I've got a lovely little outfit on, and I don't want to carry round a great blokely coat. Why? Because I don't want to get sweaty. So I get a cab to the first bar, and for £4 or £5 he drops me off outside. I'm outside for literally two seconds. The bars are packed so close together. Cloakrooms don't exist in Newcastle.'

I see a gap in the market, the Bigg Market.